


hearts all gone to pieces

by spacebeyonce



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Food as a Metaphor for Love, Multi, Post-Bad Ending, Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Post-Re:Mind, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 10:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22494724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebeyonce/pseuds/spacebeyonce
Summary: I love you. I want us to eat well.
Relationships: Kairi/Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts), Sora & Sora's Father (Kingdom Hearts), Sora & Sora's Mother (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 68





	hearts all gone to pieces

**Author's Note:**

> hello! happy friday, again! 
> 
> so like I said last time - re:mind was cute. and that secret episode? wow! and it may be awful of me but I liked the bad ending a lot more than the true ending - more stakes that way, I feel. like can you imagine the agony of riku and kairi working so hard to find sora, and then they finally get a lead and when they find him he's like THAT?
> 
> I can imagine.
> 
> I liked it so much I got inspired to write another post-saving sora fic. I've already done one saving sora fic, and I don't think I have it in me to do another. but I was definitely down for another one of these.
> 
> alright, then - onward. of course, as usual, everything's unbeta'd and edited by me. title's from the poem 'salad days' by tomás morín.

When he was a child, Sora’s grandmother always stopped by to visit.

He remembers it, vividly – she always came to visit during the weekends, mostly Sundays. She would come in, and at four years old, Sora would totter up to her, arms already outstretched for a hug. And every time she would scoop him up, and he would bury his face in her long gray hair and smell spices and warmth.

“I swear you get bigger every time I see you!” she exclaims, jiggling him in her arms and tickling his sides until he squealed with laughter. “Have you eaten?”

“No, no!” Sora would say, “gramma, gramma, are you and daddy gonna cook again? What are you and daddy gonna cook?”

He asked this every time, and each time, his grandmother would smile in response, a sparkle in her brown eyes. “It’s a surprise,” she said, playfully tweaking his nose. “Would you like to help us, my sunshine?”

“Yes, yes!!”

He couldn’t help _too_ much, being four – but he could stir things, when his grandma asked. He could add the spices his father gives him and add chopped ingredients to the pot. Sora can sit and listen, sipping on the cup of juice his father gave him, and hear him and his grandmother talking about their day, about what went on in the past week. He sits, taking in the warmth and cozy smells of food and the murmur of voices, and marvels to himself, wonders at the contentment that has wrapped around him.

Sora basks in it until his mother comes home, greeting him and his father with a kiss and his grandmother with a hug, and when they sit to eat, the warmth of it all seeps into his bones, sinks into his heart, fills him to bursting.

“Sora has become such a good helper,” his grandmother said, and he perked up with pride at the mention. “I don’t know how we would’ve gotten this meal together without him!”

“Oh?” his mother reached out, ran a tender thumb across his cheek before wiping rice off his chin. “Well, someone’s going to be quite the cook when they get older, won’t they?”

“Yeah!” Sora bounced in his chair, “yeah, I’ll – when I grow up, I’ll make food for you and daddy and gramma all the time!”

He shoved another spoonful of food into his mouth after that declaration, savoring the taste of rice and chicken, and his grandmother laughed. “I’m looking forward to it! It’s always good, cooking for the people you love - I’m sure whatever you make will be wonderful, my sunshine.”

The conversations always veered down paths he couldn’t follow as dinner went on, but he perked up again as the dishes went into the sink, his mother scooping him up as they moved into the living room. This was his favorite part – his _favorite_ – his grandmother, pulling some kind of treat out of her bag for all of them to share. 

Tonight, it was an orange, the color of the rind exactly like the sunsets of Destiny Islands, and Sora wiggled in his mother’s lap as she peeled the rind, the faint scent of oranges filling the air. He reached out towards his grandmother, little fingers grasping, and she laughed, pulling off a segment to hand to him, “alright, alright, here you go!”

“I swear, Aouli, he definitely has your appetite,” his mother said as he clutched at the slice, holding it close and inhaling the scent of oranges before shoving the slice into his mouth.

“Aw, Junie – nothing wrong with that; he loves food! It’s good for him.”

“Nothing wrong with loving food,” his grandmother agreed, popping her own orange slice into her mouth before passing the fruit on to his father. “Food is one of the best ways to connect. Isn’t that how my son worked his way into your heart, Jun?”

His mother’s voice vibrated beneath his ear where he had it pressed against her chest, but Sora wasn’t really listening. He leaned against his mother and curled sticky fingers into her shirt, closing his eyes and savoring the taste of the orange as it spread across his tongue. He came back to himself as his mother laughed, pulling off a segment of orange to hand to Sora before grabbing one for herself, punctuating the treat with a kiss to his cheek.

Pressing closer to his mother with a goofy smile, Sora made sure to try and take his time with his new orange slice, eating it slowly to really savor the treat.

Oranges never tasted as sweet as they did that night, sitting with his family.

-o-

_Why did I remember that_ , Sora asked himself dreamily. _What did I remember that for?_

His senses were waking up, slowly - warmth touched his face, the familiar sea salt tang of the ocean hitting his nose, and Sora assumed that this was just another dream. It wouldn’t surprise him; that was all that surrounded him, now – dream after dream after dream. It never stopped.

There was a distant hum in the air, a push and pull from the waves, and it all sounded so much like home that he felt sick. If this was a dream, Sora wanted it to be over – he wanted to move on, wanted to be shown something else, _anything else_ but home.

But the dream _didn’t_ end – if anything, the sound of the waves increased, louder and louder as his ears slowly cleared, and Sora slowly began to register that someone was calling his name.

“-ora!! _Sora!!!_ Sora, _please –_ ”

That voice was frantic, near tears – familiar. He hasn’t heard her voice in so long.

The heat of the sun felt like it was thawing him out; he felt the numbness recede from his face – slowly, feeling spread down his limbs, to his fingertips, tingling.

There was a weight on his chest. Another voice.

“ _Sora –_ ”

His hand twitched. Moved for the first time in – a long time. Curled, and felt the grit of sand beneath his nails.

“Riku – Riku, he _moved_ , he -!”

Riku. Kairi.

This wasn’t a dream. Was it? Was he –

_I will save you._

Was he really saved?

He wanted to know; more than anything he wanted to know, wanted to be _sure_. Sora hummed, deep and quiet in the back of his throat, and struggled to pry open his eyes. The first beams of sunlight stabbed into his eyes, bright, too bright, and he slammed his eyes back shut with a low grunt of pain.

“Sora…” Riku’s voice, so tired, “c’mon…open your eyes, _please_ –”

 _Again,_ he urged himself, _just try again_.

Slowly, Sora opened his eyes again – and this time, this time it was fine, because Riku and Kairi were there, leaning close, hovering over him and blocking out the sun. He blinked up at them, dumbfounded; he could stare at them forever – he wanted to, after having nothing to sustain him but dreams, washed out and blurry around the edges.

“Sora?” Kairi asked, her voice warbling, and she shifted, pressing a shaking hand against his cheek, soft as a breeze. He wanted to lean into her touch, but it was still so hard to move. So he just looked, still adjusting to the bright light. Kairi was bruised and scraped bloody; a line of dried blood stretched from her temple to her chin. Riku didn’t look so great, either – haggard and equally bruised, with dark circles beneath his eyes.

When she saw that he was looking at her, Kairi’s eyes shined with a film of tears, and her lower lip trembled. “Sora,” she sobbed, and the strength in her arm gave out, leaving her to collapse onto the sand and lean into his chest, “Sora, we found you, we _found you_ –”

“Are you okay?” Riku interrupted, reaching out to press a warm hand against his chest, “can you move?”

His eyes were shiny as well, and Sora wanted to tell him, tell both of them, _don’t cry, it’s okay_. But his tongue felt like lead, and all he could let out was another low humming noise, deep in his throat.

Sora wasn’t sure _how_ he felt – he felt scooped out, hollow inside, a heavy weight sitting on his chest. His heart, he assumed, fully restored but heavy – healing. He couldn’t move, his arms and legs refusing to respond to him, tingling furiously as feeling slowly returned to him.

Riku looked stricken at his silence, Kairi still sobbing quietly into his chest, and Sora wanted to reassure them over and over – _don’t cry, don’t cry, it’s okay. I’m okay –_

And it was, it _was_ okay, because this wasn’t a dream – for once, this wasn’t a dream, he was home, they _found him_ , and he –

He –

- _cold metal grates digging into the flesh of his palm, his arm shaking as he struggled to hold himself up, reeling because his Keyblade, he took his_ Keyblade –

_-numbness spreading up his arms, across his chest, vibrant crystal spreading across his skin –_

_I will save you._

He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure. _I’m tired,_ he thought, weary. _I’m so tired._

Humming once more, Sora gave in to the exhaustion tugging at him and closed his eyes. He heard Riku cry out in alarm, and he wanted to reassure him – _it’s alright, I’m just tired_ – but he couldn’t.

He slept.

-o-

The next time Sora woke up, it was to his bedroom and gentle fingers running through his hair.

He didn’t know how long he’s slept, but it was nighttime when he awoke, his open window bringing in a welcome breeze. The stars shined brightly in the sky, and Sora shifted a little beneath his blankets, lifting his head a little to be able to take in more of the sight.

It’s been such a long time, since he’s seen the stars.

Sora came back to himself as the hand in his hair paused in its ministrations, and he heard a shaky breath behind him. “…Sora? Are you awake?”

He hadn’t heard that voice in so long that his eyes automatically flooded with tears, and Sora strained to roll over so he could see with his own eyes. His throat bobbed rapidly, but he was able to get his heavy tongue to move, “…dad?” he croaked out, and a tear slipped out and streaked across the bridge of his nose.

His dad looked just like he remembered him, but a little more…weary. More tired. There were new creases around his eyes, blue just like his, and his brown hair was a mess, spiked every which way like he’d spent hours furiously running his hands through it. When Sora’s voice reached him, his eyes crinkled at the corners, tears furiously rising and spilling over.

“Sora –” his father reached out to him with shaking hands, curling into himself like he was wounded, “Sora, you – I –”

He couldn’t find the words, and he finally cradled Sora’s head in his hands, tear tracks shining in the moonlight. “We thought you were _dead_ ,” his father whispered, heartbroken, “I didn’t – we couldn’t find you _anywhere_. Sora, what – where did you -?”

His father shook his head, his words failing him, and Sora’s heart throbbed with guilt. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I’m sorry. Where – where’s mom? Is she -?”

“Asleep. I only just got her to rest.” He sniffed, quickly swiping at his eyes, “she’s been watching over you all day.”

Sora couldn’t stop staring at his dad; he had barely seen him, before the war, and then after –

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he said quietly, slowly reaching up to cover his dad’s hands with his, “I’ll never do that again, I promise.”

He wasn’t sure if he could keep that promise – but he would try. He _had_ to try. Sora couldn’t bear to see this look on his dad’s face again. He sniffled again, but said nothing on Sora’s promise, and his heart ached even more in his chest.

“…are you hungry?” His dad finally said, “I know it’s late – but if you’re hungry, or thirsty –”

Sora stopped short at the question – he hasn’t felt hungry in so long, he can hardly remember how it felt. At the moment, all he felt was weariness, exhaustion sinking deep into his hollow bones. He hasn’t felt this weak in a while. Since -

He shook the thought out of his head. “No…I’m not hungry. I’m just tired, now.”

His dad looked sad at his response, but he didn’t protest, didn’t push, rubbing a thumb across his cheek. “Okay,” he finally said, “you just rest, for now. That’s alright.”

A part of Sora didn’t _want_ to sleep, wasn’t ready – he wanted to talk to his dad more, about what he missed. He wanted to see his mom. Selfishly, he also wanted Riku and Kairi to be there, wanted to see them and touch them and make sure they were alright.

But sleep called him, a stubborn, unrelenting pull, and Sora disregarded it long enough to ask, “dad…you’ll stay with me, won’t you?”

He felt like a child again, asking that, but he felt better, having his dad close by; he wanted him to stay near him for as long as he could.

“Of course.” The reply was instant, “I’ll stay here as long as you want.”

 _Good,_ he tried to say, _good_ , but his eyes slipped shut instead, and he quickly fell back asleep.

-o-

It was daytime, the next time Sora woke up, and he was greeted to the distant sound of humming drifting through his open door, the scent of _something_ wafting up into his room. The smell of it was familiar, tickling at the edges of a memory, and he wanted to get up and discover what it was. He wanted to remember.

Clenching his fingers, Sora tested his limbs; he could actually _feel_ them, this time – they didn’t feel like deadened weight, disconnected. He wanted to move – should he try? A voice drifted up from downstairs that made his heavy heart clench in his chest, making his decision for him. Slowly, Sora gingerly made his way out of bed, pushing onward until he was standing up on _very_ shaky legs.

But he was standing – that was _something._

 _Downstairs, now,_ he urged himself. _You got this._

His movements were jerky – though Sora could _feel_ his arms and legs, it still felt off; like they weren’t entirely his own, yet. Despite it all, though – he was moving. Slowly, but it was better than nothing. At what felt like a snail’s pace, he left his room, making his way down the hallway and down the stairs at a painstaking pace, taking care to not fall.

The closer he got, the stronger the smells became, and he could name them, now – the sharp tang of tomato sauce, a hint of cooked fish – his father’s cooking.

The wood creaked as his foot landed on the last step, and the voice stopped in the kitchen, the air growing still as they paused.

Part of him froze, wanted to stay glued to the stair, wanted to run back to his room – but it was a small part; the rest of him wanted this more. So he hopped off the stairs, and continued his slow, shuffling pace to the kitchen.

His mother was there to meet him halfway.

Her hair was longer, he noted absently as she stared at him with wide brown eyes, hovering in the doorway, and she looked tired, too – as tired as his father looked, when he first saw him. That was all he was able to note before his mother rushed to him and pulled him into her arms. Sora was taller than her, too – and that broke his heart more than anything. When did that happen?

He made it work, though – he bent down, sagged, low enough so he could press his face into her neck as he did when he was a child, wrapped his tired arms around her waist and squeezed.

“Mama,” he whispered, and he felt her shoulders shaking with her quiet crying, “mama, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

 _I had to do it,_ he didn’t say. _For them, i_ _t was worth the price. I’d pay it a thousand times._

He wouldn’t say that to her – couldn’t. Instead, he held his mother close, and whispered apologies over and over.

“We looked _everywhere_ for you,” his mother sobbed, clutching at him, “we thought – I thought we’d never find you. I thought you’d never come home. When Riku and Kairi brought you here – that they were even able to _find_ you, I -”

Sora’s heart ached at the mention of their names – where did they go? Where are they? But that can wait; this was more important, now.

So he stood on tired legs, holding his mom and apologizing again and again until she stepped back, furiously wiping at her red eyes. “Oh, what am I doing?” She scolded herself, sniffling, “sweetheart, I’m sorry – let’s sit down, come on.”

She led him into the kitchen, placing him in a seat at the table, and took the time to run a hand through Sora’s hair and brush a thumb across his cheek before turning away to the stove.

“Your father’s out, but he should be back soon.” His mother said over the quiet clatter of dishes, “he cooked, before he left – do you want to try and eat something?”

His mother asked the last part slowly, hesitantly – like she was worried about the answer. Sora got a flash of his father’s face, upset about him not wanting to eat, but not trying to push him.

 _Nothing wrong with loving food,_ his grandmother’s voice echoed in his ear, distant. _Food is one of the best ways to connect._

His mother was still, waiting.

“…yeah,” he finally said, “I can try and eat a little.”

Her shoulders drooped with relief, and soon she was placing a bowl in front of him, reaching out once more to touch his face – reassuring herself that he was there.

Sora’s eyes lowered to the bowl in front of him, staring – tomato sauce, mussels, clams, hunks of fish. He remembered this – his father’s go-to recipe for whenever someone wasn’t feeling well.

He tried to swallow past the lump that clogged his throat. Picked up his spoon and brought a heaping mouthful to his lips, loaded with broth and chunks of fish. Sora tried not to cry as the flavors spread across his tongue, warmth blooming and spreading down his throat and into his scraped hollow heart, but he found himself blinking back tears anyway.

Soon he went back for another spoonful, and another, plucking the mussels and clams out of their shells, scraping the sides of the bowl until it was empty. The entire time his mother watched, a small, relieved smile on her face when he finally looked up from his empty bowl.

“Do you want more?” She asked, and Sora quickly nodded.

-o-

_This was a dream._

_Or maybe more of a memory._

_“H-how…how could –”_

_Cold metal dug into his knees as he collapsed, arm quickly shooting out to catch his fall. The cold metal grates dug into the flesh of his palm, his arm shaking as he struggled to hold himself up, reeling because his Keyblade, he took his_ Keyblade –

_His heart was throbbing, pulse screaming in his ears – he was bleeding, cuts and gashes lining his arms and legs. And Yozora was walking towards him, a slow, steady gait._

_“Sorry, but I don’t lose.”_

_Light, so bright it was almost blinding, peeked through the cracks of Sora’s fingers – crystal, brighter than starlight, slowly began to creep across his knuckles, over his wrist, spreading faster, faster,_ faster –

_Sora’s head flopped back, blankly looking up at the stars as numbness spread up his arms, across his chest, vibrant crystal spreading across his skin, quickly creeping up his throat._

Kairi, _he thought vacantly, wished that she was here, that he could see her._ Riku –

_He couldn’t remember much, after that. Just a voice, at the edge of his senses._

“ _I_ will _save you.”_

_And then –_

-o-

Sora jerked awake. Tried to breathe, but the air was caught in his chest.

He tried to breathe – he tried – but there was a vice around his chest, his heart racing in his ears, and he just – couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe. His body was numb, he couldn’t move, couldn’t _breathe_ , he –

“Sora.”

Hands cradled his face, gentle.

“Sora, it’s alright. You’re safe. You’re home now, okay?”

He remembered then – Sora had left home. Told his parents that he wanted to walk along the beach, to try and get his strength back. He walked across the shore, digging his toes into the sand and relishing the grit of it, the stored heat from the sun radiating from it. Occasionally he stepped into the waves to enjoy the feel of the cool water swirling around his ankles. And eventually he got tired – but he didn’t want to go home yet, wasn’t ready. So he laid down in the sand. Fell asleep to the wind and the water and the warm sun on his face.

And now, he wasn’t alone – someone was here, holding his face. Someone was here, holding his hand.

He still couldn’t breathe.

“Here-” another voice, and the person holding his hand pressed it to their chest, his knuckles resting against their sternum. “just breathe with me, Sora. Just like this, okay? Can you feel it?”

They inhaled deeply, chest rising and falling steadily, and Sora followed, failing the first handful of tries, his chest bursting with panicked stuttering. He caught on to it eventually, and soon his chest matched the soothing rise and fall of theirs.

“There you go,” they said, pleased, “there you go. It’s okay, Sora.”

Blinking the sun out of his eyes -how long had his eyes been open? Sora wondered – he was finally able to focus. Finally able to see.

Kairi smiled down at him, her hair shining copper in the light of the setting sun, and Riku was at his side, still holding onto his hand. Sora wondered if it was all a dream, for a moment – he’s wanted this back for so long, it’s highly possible that he dreamed it up.

They looked a little better, from when he last saw them who knows how many days ago; any scrapes and cuts that he could see were gone, bruises faded with healing.

He couldn’t have dreamed that up, so they must be real. Sora licked his dry lips, “Kairi,” he whispered, “Riku.”

Kairi’s whole face lit up with her smile – his favorite smile, the one that showed her dimples – and he turned his head in time to see Riku’s expression brighten up as well, his shoulders sagging with relief.

Sora shifted in place, noticing that his head was now resting in Kairi’s lap instead of the sand; the panic that had such a tight grip on his chest finally loosened, and his arms and legs tingled as feeling returned to them, finally able to really enjoy the warmth of Riku’s hand wrapped around his.

“How –” he hesitated, a little embarrassed at being caught at such a low moment, “how long have I -?”

“Can’t say.” Riku shrugged, “all afternoon, I’m assuming.”

“We stopped by your house, ‘cause we wanted to give you something,” Kairi added, “but you weren’t home. After a while, we decided to look for you.”

Sora’s heart warmed at her words, and he relaxed further into her lap. “You – you were looking for me? You came over?”

Kairi’s face softened, “Sora, we’ve been over to see you almost every day. You’ve been sleeping for a while after we –”

Her expression changed, suddenly fragile, “…after we found you,” she quietly finished. “Your parents let us know when you woke up but I – I don’t know…I didn’t want us to interrupt your time with your parents.”

 _You could have,_ Sora wanted to say, _I’ve missed you. I wanted to see you._

But he didn’t say it. He wouldn’t.

Instead, he reached up and touched one of Kairi’s hands, still cradling his face, and squeezed Riku’s hand with a smile. “I’m glad you found me,” he said, and he meant that in so many ways. “You said you had something for me?”

“Oh – oh! Oh, yeah!” Kairi leaned over, careful to not jostle Sora, and bumped into Riku’s shoulder. “Riku, go ahead and give ‘em.”

“Ah – right!” With his free hand, Riku reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small, crinkly bag, tied closed with a silky length of ribbon. “We made these for you,” he explained, gently placing the bag on his chest. “They might be kinda cold, now, but they should still be good.”

Reluctantly, Sora let go of their hands to deal with the bag placed on his chest, noting the weight of them as he gingerly untied the ribbon. The sweet scent that wafted up to him sent him reeling, and Kairi smiled down at him when he looked up at her with shocked wide eyes.

“Do you remember the day the three of us met?” She asked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

He did. He did remember.

Sora remembered dragging Riku to his dad and asking him to help them make cookies, to say hi to the new girl that the mayor adopted, the one that they found washed up on the islands a few weeks ago. He remembered pouring the sugar and cracking the eggs and grabbing a bandaid for Riku when he scraped his finger helping his dad zest lemons.

He remembered feeling so proud of the lemon cookies he helped make, quickly wrapping them up so he and Riku could make it to the mayor’s house before it got dark.

He remembered grinning at Mister Keone as he let them into his home before he saw Kairi, small and pale and scared quiet, eyes wide as marbles as she stared at them. “Hi!!” Sora remembered saying, “I’m Sora, and this is Riku! We heard you – you weren’t feeling well, so we made these for you!!” He’d shoved the cookies out, and Kairi stared at them for a moment before reaching out and cupping the wrapped treats in her tiny hands. “Thank you,” she said, voice a thin whisper, and Sora grinned.

“Yeah! If – if you ever wanna come play with us some time, when you feel better, we’ll come get you. Okay?”

Kairi had eventually nodded and smiled, a tiny thing, and to Sora it was as bright as any other grin, and he beamed back at her.

The memories washed over him as he pulled a lemon cookie from the bag, staring at it in disbelief before bringing it to his lips for a taste. “We didn’t even have to ask your dad for help, which was a miracle in itself,” Riku was saying as Sora took a small bite. “I think they’re too sweet, but Kairi says they’re fine, so –”

And they – they were _more_ than fine; the bright tang of the lemon melted into sweetness across his tongue, and he quickly devoured the cookie and reached for another. Shoving part of his next cookie into his mouth, Sora huffed as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, hooking his arms over Kairi’s thighs and resting his head against her chest. She stretched her legs out along either side of him, and he held up his partially bitten cookie to her as thanks.

“Oh, thanks!” She leaned in and took a bite, humming happily, “oh, these are so good! Riku, we did such a good job, look –”

Kairi grabbed Sora’s wrist, moving it until the cookie they bit into was inches away from Riku’s mouth. He made a face, but at both of their expectant looks, he took his own bite from the cookie, chewing thoughtfully. “They do taste like how I remember,” he admitted, and Kairi’s mouth dropped open in betrayal.

“You ate some of my cookies? That you two _made_ for _me_? Riku!”

“Kairi, there were over a _dozen cookies_ – no shit we ate some.”

She sputtered loudly, affronted, and Sora slowly finished the remainder of the cookie as they bickered. “Still! It’s the principle of the thing! Those were gifts! _Gifts!!_ And you two just _ate them!!_ ”

“We were four, Kairi, who’s gonna say no to cookies when you’re _four?_ ”

“No, no – you were _five_. You’re the elder out of all of us, take responsibility!!”

“I –”

Their light argument quickly screeched to a halt as Sora burst into laughter between them, licking the remains of sugar off the tips of his fingers. They forgot how bright it was, his laughter – his smile. It left them stunned in the wake, unable to do anything but listen as the sound was carried off by the wind.

Sora was feeling better than he’s ever felt in _days –_ he couldn’t remember the last time he got to laugh. The feeling was as sweet and potent as the cookies he was gifted, sinking into his heart and filling him up. “I missed you guys so much,” he sighed, his voice catching in his throat as his eyes quickly shined with tears. “I thought – I thought I’d never get to see you two again. I’m so happy I can – I’m so happy.”

He felt Kairi wrap her arms around his shoulders and pull him close, and he could feel Riku move in a little closer, leaning against Kairi and grabbing his hand.

“…I’m just happy we found you,” Kairi finally said, her voice shaky, and Riku hummed in agreement at their side, the only sound he was able to make. “It took us so long – I was afraid we’d never find you. And when we did –” her voice was tight with emotion, and she paused, taking a slow, deep breath, “it was scary. When we found you. I thought – I thought we wouldn’t be able to bring you back. But we did.”

Her arms tightened around him, and she leaned in until her cheek was pressed against his. Sora placed his cookies down so he could grab at one of her arms, rubbing his cheek against hers.

“You did,” he agreed softly, giving Riku’s hand a squeeze. “And I’m glad. I’m so glad you did.”

Riku sighed quietly, eyes on the sunset, “you scared us, Sora. When you disappeared that day –”

His voice stuck in his throat, and Riku coughed to quickly clear it away. “Just don’t do it again,” he begged, “Sora, don’t leave us behind anymore.” His voice was heavy with unsaid things, and it made Sora’s heart ache.

It was getting late, the sun sinking lower and lower into the horizon; he knew he needed to head back home, so his parents wouldn’t worry so much.

But he wanted to stay here – he wanted to watch the sunset with them, just a little while longer.

“Okay.” Sora quietly vowed, “I won’t leave you again. I promise.”

-o-

Sora knew that eventually, the worries about his Keyblade would begin to haunt him.

It’s been a couple months, now, since he was found, and he’s feeling better in all the ways that matter. He can get up without worry, and he can move around again. It doesn’t stop his parents from checking on him – definitely doesn’t stop his dad from feeding him too much. But that’s fine.

His dreams still hounded after him too, nipping at his heels, _always_ the same dream – the disbelief and helplessness at his Keyblade being taken from him, the pain of being beaten, the numbing crawl of crystal spreading across his skin –

But it was fine.

He hasn’t seen any of the other Guardians, yet – hasn’t seen Donald or Goofy, either. Not for lack of tying – Kairi and Riku have mentioned everyone wanting to see him, but he’s begged for time. “Not yet,” he finally admitted one day, “I’m just – I’m not ready.”

But it was fine.

Bit by bit, Sora was slowly feeling more and more like himself – almost like the last year and a half was something out of a dream.

Except –

Standing in the waves at the play island, the afternoon sun shining down on him, Sora’s Keyblade appeared in his hand in a flash of light – an improvement, from before; when he first tried to bring his Keyblade to him, it wouldn’t even respond to his calls.

Though his Keyblade appeared, the effort still took a toll on him, his heart aching in his chest. He stared at the handle, considering it, feeling the weight of it in his hand.

Sora couldn’t remember his Keyblade ever feeling so heavy to him, before – it was almost hard to hold onto.

He could never remember a time when he felt so weak – it’s scared him. He could hear Chirithy’s voice, echoing in his mind, warning him –

 _I had to do it,_ he reminded himself sharply. _I would do it again. It was worth the price. I’d pay it a thousand times._

Over and over again, as long as it meant his friends got to live in a world where they could still laugh.

But –

Pressing his lips into a line, Sora held his Keyblade overhead, hoping, _hoping_ –

“Heal.”

Not even a sprout.

Refusing to give up, he fell back into a stance that was so familiar, easier than breathing –

“Fire.”

Nothing.

Sora’s heart sat like lead in his chest, but he had to keep trying, he just had to _try_ , and maybe –

Maybe –

“Thunder.”

Maybe.

His Keyblade felt like cold metal and dead weight – it lacked the warmth and vibrancy of when he was at his strongest, didn’t feel light as air in his hands. It felt like nothing – because _he_ was nothing.

Weak. Powerless. Stripped down to the bone.

He felt a wave of feelings rising in him – worthlessness, uselessness, helpless as his Keyblade was taken from him, as crystal spread across his skin -

_There’s no saving you._

Sora let his Keyblade vanish in a whirl of light – let it retreat into the hollow recesses of his heart.

-o-

When he returned home that day, it was to the sound of his mother’s singing.

He followed the sound to the kitchen and found her placing a loaf pan into the oven, dusting flour off her apron, a pot of something bubbling away. She looked pleased, and Sora felt bad at the thought of bringing any good mood she had down with his despondency, so when he entered the kitchen and announced his presence, he tried to do it with a bright smile. “Hey, mama.”

His mother turned to greet him with a smile, “Sora! You’ve got good timing – Aouli is making lunch, he just went upstairs for a moment, and I just put some bread –”

She faltered when she saw him, her smile dimming a little as a wrinkle of concern appeared between her eyes. Sora’s gut twisted with guilt; his mother already worried enough, because of him – he didn’t want to make it any worse.

“Well, _that’s_ not a good smile,” she said, removing her apron. “come on, sit down – do you want something to drink?”

“I can get it, don’t worry.”

He quickly grabbed something to drink and took a seat near his mother, who was still looking at him with that concerned wrinkle in her brow.

“Did something happen?”

Sora shrugged, not really sure how to answer the question. “Not really. I just…I’m not feeling so good, I guess.”

“Do you need to go lie down for a minute? Or –”

“No, no – not like that.”

Sora looked up from where he was nervously running his finger along the rim of his glass and stared at his mother’s round face. Everyone always told him that he looked just like her.

Suddenly, he just wanted to tell her everything – about the other worlds, his Keyblade, all of it. He didn’t want to leave her in the dark anymore.

He took a sip from his glass before the whole story just burst out of him, thinking. “I’m not feeling good about myself,” he finally said, turning back to his mother. “I’m – I’m getting better every day, ever since Riku and Kairi found – found me. But…”

He could still feel the heavy, dead weight of his Keyblade, feel the cold metal sinking into his palm. “…Even though I’m feeling better, it’s not enough. There are some parts that aren’t – that aren’t okay, yet. And without them, I feel worthless.”

Sora felt a little bitter, saying that – but without a Keyblade, what good was he? What could he do? What was the point of him?

Slowly, the homey scent of bread spread through the kitchen, and he looked up at the sigh that came from the entry to the kitchen, turning to see his father staring at him with a sad smile.

“Sora.”

He focused back onto his mother as she grabbed his hand, his father taking a seat next to him and scooting close so he could wrap an arm around his shoulders. Her lips were pursed, and she ran a thumb over his hand as she thought on her words.

“Getting better,” she said slowly, “it’s not – linear. Or instant. Nothing gets better all at once; some things take longer to heal than others.”

His mother looked up at him, “I don’t know what it is you’ve been through – I don’t know if I’ll ever know, or if I’ll ever get to understand. But – be kind to yourself, sweetheart.”

“You’re always going to be our bright boy,” his father said, pulling him close and resting his cheek on the top of his head. “It’s fine if it takes a minute to get back to that. Alright?”

“…Alright,” Sora whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Thanks, mama. Dad. I’m sorry for worrying you so much.”

“Ha!” His father grinned, “you’ve been worrying Jun since you learned how to walk – it’s the norm, by now.” His smile sobered a little as he reached out to tweak his nose, “just don’t pull any stunts like this one again. Understand? Now -”

He let Sora go and pushed himself to his feet, “ready to eat something? I’ve got soup going, and I’m making sandwiches to go with it with the bread your mother’s making.”

Sora rubbed at his nose, watching his dad move to the stove and check the pot simmering away on the stove. The scent of bread increased in the kitchen, and his mother pressed a kiss to his cheek before rising to stand next to his dad, the two of them leaning into each other.

He felt…something closer to better. Not all the way better but – closer.

Chest warm and much lighter than before, Sora rose from his chair and made his way to his parents, worming his way between them.

-o-

“There you are!”

Sora grunted as Kairi plopped into his lap, wrapping an arm around her waist so she doesn’t tumble off the end of the dock into the sea. “I’ve been looking all over for you!” Kairi exclaimed, leaning into his shoulder, “I sent a text to Riku – he should be on his way soon.”

When the only response she got was a hum, Kairi leaned back to peek up at him, staring hard at the faraway look in his eyes.

“…Sora?” She finally asked, elbowing him gently to get his attention. His eyes drifted down to her, and she smiled at him, encouraging. “You look like you’re thinking hard - munny for your thoughts?”

His brow wrinkled, and Sora couldn’t help but look away, his eyes drifting down to his lap, the hand around Kairi’s waist nervously fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

“…My Keyblade doesn’t work anymore.” He finally said, and Kairi blinked, not expecting that at all.

“Doesn’t -?”

In a flash of light, his Keyblade appeared in his free hand. “It comes when I call,” he quietly explained, “but that’s it. I can’t fight. I can’t cast magic. I can’t do anything.”

He sent his Keyblade away as he finally looked back at Kairi, stricken. “If I can’t use my Keyblade,” he said helplessly, “I’m worthless.”

Kairi’s gaze narrowed sharply, her eyes fiery. “You are _not_ –” she started furiously, but Sora shook his head. “I am!! I’m weak, now, weaker than I’ve ever been! I feel useless! I – I can’t do a lot of things, but I could do _that_. I could _fight_ and protect everyone!”

Sora’s eyes burned, the lump in his throat choking him, and no matter how hard he tried to hold them back, tears streaked down his cheeks anyway.

“What good am I if I can’t use my Keyblade?” Sora cried, “what else can I do? What am I supposed to do if I can’t stand and fight with you??”

He tried to move past these feelings, after talking with his parents, but they persisted in the past few days, planted deep in his heart and festering. Sora knew that his friends were strong, he knew that they were capable – they had to be, to bring him back from the brink the way they did. But he still wanted to be there _with_ them, wanted to watch their back the way they watched his.

What else can he do, if he wasn’t even able to do that?

“You get better.”

Sora jumped, startled out of his misery at the sound of Riku’s voice, and Kairi looked up at him with serious eyes. Riku lowered himself down next to Sora, placing the bag hanging over his arm next to him on the dock. The contents inside jostled together, but Riku paid it no mind, his bright eyes focused on Sora.

“That’s all you have to do right now, Sora – just get better. It’s already a good sign, that your Keyblade is answering your call.”

“But what if that’s all it does?” He whispered, doubtful, “what if I can never fight again? Never use magic again?”

“Sora, you can’t think like that.” Kairi gripped at his shirt, “of course you’ll be able to use your Keyblade again! I know you will! But – but you can’t push it! This doesn’t seem like something you can just rush!”

“Kairi’s right.” Riku said, “don’t force it. And don’t sulk. I know you’ll be able to use your Keyblade again – I don’t doubt it for a moment.”

That solid belief in him made more tears fill Sora’s eyes, pouring down his face, and he sniffled as Kairi wiped them away.

“You just have to get better,” Kairi said again, “and then, once you do, just work hard. You’ll be back in fighting shape before you know it. And until then, just – just let us fight for you.”

“Mm.” Riku nodded, a small smile gracing his lips, “leave it to us, okay? Let us do the fighting for once, until you come back.”

“And if you need help, I’m always ready to beat you in a sparring match. I’ve gotten _very_ good at it now,” Kairi cheekily volunteered, and Sora laughed, swiping at his face before pressing a wet kiss to Kairi’s cheek. She whined loudly but didn’t push him away, making a show of rolling her eyes and swiping at her cheek, even though the blush spreading across her face told him something else.

“Thanks, Kairi. Riku. I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

“Oh, we know.” Kairi sniffed, smiling, “you’re totally hopeless without us.”

 _I am_ , he wanted to say, _I really, really am_. But he kept it to himself, grinning back at Kairi until something cold was pressed against his cheek. He jerked back with a squeak, glaring daggers at Riku who just smirked at him, holding up two bottles of water. “Here, drink up.”

“Where’d you get _that_?” Sora asked, plucking the water out of his hand.

“Stopped by the store. Selphie says hi, by the way.” He pulled out his own bottle of water, and then reached back into the bag. “I also grabbed this, to snack on.”

Riku pulled an item out of the bag, and Sora’s eyes widened. Suddenly, he was four years old again, eagerly waiting as his grandmother pulled her after dinner treat out of her purse.

An orange, large and perfectly round, sat in the palm of Riku’s hand, the color of the peel matching the exact shade of Destiny Islands’ sunsets. He dug a nail into the rind and quickly made work of the peel, and the sharp, sweet scent of oranges filled the air.

Sora was entranced.

“Oh, Riku, come on, share,” Kairi was saying, hand outstretched, and Riku quickly pulled off a segment of orange, popping it into his mouth before grabbing another piece to give to Kairi. She hummed as she sunk her teeth into the orange slice, taking her time with it instead of shoving it in her face like Riku did, and Sora snapped back into focus when another slice of orange was held out to him.

“Want one?” Riku asked, chewing on another slice of orange, and Sora really didn’t know what came over him, at that moment.

Instead of grabbing the orange slice, he grabbed a fistful of Riku’s shirt, pulling him across that scant distance to press his mouth against his. The taste of oranges spread across his tongue, sweeter than any other orange he’s ever had – sweeter, maybe, because of the kiss, because he hasn’t kissed Riku in days, weeks, _months_ –

Kairi squeaked, sandwiched between them, and Sora quickly let a dazed Riku go so he could swoop down and give her the same treatment, once again relishing in the sweetest taste of oranges he’d ever had.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, pressing another light kiss against Kairi’s lips, stretching up to kiss Riku at the corner of his mouth as he plucked the orange slice from his hand. “ _Thank you_.”

What he was thanking them for, he couldn’t really say – for saving him, for bringing him home, for loving him and fighting for him and staying with him. For bringing him oranges, and cookies, and cold bottles of water.

For helping him fill up his scooped hollow heart, until he could fight again.

He finally bit into his orange, and he savored the flavor of it slowly – good, but not as good as how it tasted from Riku and Kairi’s lips.

The orange tasted much sweeter that way, the three of them sharing slices and kisses until the sun sank below the horizon.

**Author's Note:**

> would you believe me if I told you I got this idea after taking a bunch of shots and seeing a photoset about oranges on tumblr?
> 
> when I started this, I wasn't sure how it was gonna go. I just know I wanted it to start and end with an orange, and for food to be a part of it. 
> 
> making food for someone, or sharing food with them, is one of the best ways to connect with someone and show love! at least it is for me. and I wanted that to be in the background here - the people sora loves making food for him, and sharing it with him, so they know that he's loved as he recovers. and that he always will be.
> 
> but anyway! I hope y'all liked it. comments and kudos are very loved, as always. LOVE comments. and now I have to get to work!
> 
> until next time!


End file.
